Those Damn Cheerleaders
by mykindofparty
Summary: She complains about those damn cheerleaders in her driver's ed class. He listens. A companion piece to Opposite of Adults. Set during season 1. Mrs. Hagberg/Brad friendship with a side of Brittany/Santana.


**Those Damn Cheerleaders**

**By:** Me

**Characters:** Brad, Mrs. Hagberg, Brittany/Santana

**Summary:** She complains about those damn cheerleaders in her driver's ed class. He listens. A companion piece to _Opposite of Adults._

**A/N:** S1 Bradberg bromance based on bitchin' 'bout Brittana.

* * *

She storms into the teacher's lounge as fast as her orthopedic shoes will carry her, muttering about classroom shenanigans and learning distractions. It amuses Brad to say the least, evident by the upturned corners of his mouth that almost form a smile. Mrs. Hagberg's been here even longer than he has, but their mutual dislike for everyone at McKinley makes them excellent confidants. He never says much and she only has one mood: grumpy.

And she's certainly grumpy now.

He glances at the clock and wonders what it is this time. It's only Tuesday morning, after all.

"If there's one thing I hate," she says, "it's cheerleaders."

That's how she begins most sentences, although her rage is usually directed at different people. Sometimes it's football players or AV club or student council, but today it's cheerleaders.

She shakes her head. "Damn brats."

...

On Wednesday he's passing by her classroom when she waves him in.

"You won't believe what those damn cheerleaders said yesterday during driver's ed," she says.

He shrugs his shoulders. How is he supposed to know?

"Well," she huffs, "I'd tell you if I could remember, but they make me so irritated that I can't."

He shrugs again.

"Something about bears, I think," she says offhandedly.

He looks at the video sitting on her desk called _Grizzly Automobile Accidents_. He waits until after he's outside her room to chuckle.

...

_What's sexting?_ she texts him on Thursday. _Those damn cheerleaders wouldn't shut up about it._

He doesn't reply.

He's not even sure how she learned to text.

Maybe those damn cheerleaders taught her.

_Yeah right,_ he thinks.

...

He's going over some sheet music in his office Friday morning when she inches by in the hallway, looking even more downtrodden than usual.

"Those damn cheerleaders don't even know my name," she says sadly from the door. "I don't know why I care. If I weren't a couple of years away from retiring, I'd quit."

He hands her a tissue and it occurs to him that he has no idea who these girls even are.

...

She comes to him for advice on Monday during his free period. "I'm at my wit's end," she says, exasperated. "Those damn cheerleaders are driving me nuts. I had a dream that they moved into my basement and turned it into a brothel!"

"Do you know what they talked about on Friday?" she continues. "Reefer! I'd have them expelled, but they'd find out where I live and annoy me to death. I'm just going to show videos from now on and try to drown out their nattering."

...

He spots her in the cafeteria on Tuesday looking exhausted and miserable.

More nightmares, most likely.

...

It's been a little over a week since she started complaining about the two Cheerios in her afterschool driver's ed class and curiosity is getting the best of him. He wants to know who these girls are and if they're really as terrible as she says they are. Then again, Sue Sylvester is their coach so they're most likely rotten to the core.

He gets there just in time to see his friend walk inside the classroom after shutting her phone.

"Aren't you going to finish the quiz?" he hears her ask.

A harsh, somewhat familiar voice speaks up. "We decided that this should be a group effort. A collaboration, if you will."

Brad peeks his head in. It's Santana Lopez and it comes as no surprise that the only other Cheerio in the room is Brittany... Something. Brad's not sure he's ever caught her last name.

He can't believe it took him this long to figure it out, though; snotty cheerleaders saying peculiar things should have tipped him off.

Now that the mystery's solved, he doesn't stick around long enough to get caught.

...

"They're in glee club, too," she comments.

He nods.

She sighs. "Do they always sit that closely?"

...

"Tomorrow's their final," she tells him, "and I'll finally be able to wash those damn cheerleaders out of my hair."

He doesn't remind her that they're only sophomores because she already knows.

She might go into shock if the words are spoken aloud.

...

"Have some leftover cake," is all she says the following Monday, before shoving a plate at him.

...

Apparently Brittany and Santana aren't out of her hair quite yet because the next day after school he spots Santana whipping around the parking lot in a Ford Taurus with Brittany cheering her on from the backseat and Mrs. Hagberg holding on for dear life while an enormous cat uses the car's interior as a scratching post.

Those damn cheerleaders indeed.

...

Two years later on her last day before retiring, he spots her in the geography room, trying not to cry.

"They gave me a present for my driver's ed class," she says, showing him the dvd player. "Lot of good it'll do me now." She hiccups. "Y'know, if there's one thing I'll miss about this place besides you, it's those damn cheerleaders."


End file.
